


The Treasure Of Letters

by Sporadic_fics



Series: Happy Steve bingo 2019 [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Divergence, Happy Steve Bingo 2019, Letters, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Steve doesn't know who is writing the letters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 01:44:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20734196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sporadic_fics/pseuds/Sporadic_fics
Summary: Steve lost his sketchbook only for it to be delivered with a letter on his doorstep. He sends a letter back to who returned his sketchbook and it is the start of a very interesting relationship.Slot five of Happy Steve Bingo 2019 (So this is the slot that gives me a full bingo!)





	The Treasure Of Letters

Steve loved letters, they were something he enjoyed writing and reading but It was also something he kept to himself. He wasn’t ashamed of it, there was nothing to be ashamed of, but he kept it to himself. He had a metal tin that held all the letters he had kept over the years, it was big and heavy now but he appreciated it and every letter held a special place in his heart, even the little sarcastic sticky notes that Tony left on his shield (those were in another box that was tiny and nestled in the corner of the much larger box that held the letters). Steve had been writing letters since he was a young man, back in the late 1930s, and hadn’t stopped after he came out of the ice. Back then writing letters was so much easier as he could write on any piece of paper and slot it through a friend’s letterbox if needed but now, with emailing and cell phones, letters seemed to not matter anymore. He understood why as the technology made it so much easier to communicate but letters held a form of intimacy like no other and it soothed him when he sent or received a letter. It was why, when he lost his sketchbook and it had returned to his doorstep (due to his address being on the inside page of his sketchbook) with a letter, he knew that he would have to respond to the returning address. He couldn’t help but do so with his fingers itching to roll a pen over paper making his many thanks and appreciation known, he had also drawn a small cat on the bottom corner of his letter. The letter he had received had ended with an initial, the only indication of who the person was, but had begun with an unsure question of Steve’s name. Steve? I hope this is the right Steve, or at least a Steve. I found your sketchbook on a bench and I hope you don’t mind but I looked through it and your work is beautiful, It was a privilege to look through it. I hope you are having a nice day, -J It was short and sweet but it took up the entirety of an A4 piece of paper due to so many words being scribbled out, some were Russian and some were Latin but a majority were English. The way he wrote his words were harsh, with the letters being long and narrow rather than soft and curved, there was a slight imprint on the other side of the page where the pen had dug in and there were small areas where the ink had bled from holding it down too long with too much pressure. It was as if the person who wrote the letter had to think carefully about what he wrote a

Steve loved letters, they were something he enjoyed writing and reading but It was also something he kept to himself. He wasn’t ashamed of it, there was nothing to be ashamed of, but he kept it to himself. 

He had a metal tin that held all the letters he had kept over the years, it was big and heavy now but he appreciated it and every letter held a special place in his heart, even the little sarcastic sticky notes that Tony left on his shield (those were in another box that was tiny and nestled in the corner of the much larger box that held the letters). 

Steve had been writing letters since he was a young man, back in the late 1930s, and hadn’t stopped after he came out of the ice. Back then writing letters was so much easier as he could write on any piece of paper and slot it through a friend’s letterbox if needed but now, with emailing and cell phones, letters seemed to not matter anymore. He understood why as the technology made it so much easier to communicate but letters held a form of intimacy like no other and it soothed him when he sent or received a letter.

It was why, when he lost his sketchbook and it had returned to his doorstep (due to his address being on the inside page of his sketchbook) with a letter, he knew that he would have to respond to the returning address. He couldn’t help but do so with his fingers itching to roll a pen over paper making his many thanks and appreciation known, he had also drawn a small cat on the bottom corner of his letter. 

The letter he had received had ended with an initial, the only indication of who the person was, but had begun with an unsure question of Steve’s name. 

_ Steve? I hope this is the right Steve, or at least a Steve. _

_ I found your sketchbook on a bench and I hope you don’t mind but I looked through it and your work is beautiful, It was a privilege to look through it. _

_ I hope you are having a nice day, _

_ -J _

It was short and sweet but it took up the entirety of an A4 piece of paper due to so many words being scribbled out, some were Russian and some were Latin but a majority were English. The way he wrote his words were harsh, with the letters being long and narrow rather than soft and curved, there was a slight imprint on the other side of the page where the pen had dug in and there were small areas where the ink had bled from holding it down too long with too much pressure. It was as if the person who wrote the letter had to think carefully about what he wrote and second-guessed a lot.

As Steve analysed the letter he had noticed that one of the sentences they had crossed out, right near his name, read ‘I like cats’. It made him smile, not only because he liked cats, but because he appreciated the small fact given to him. It had taken him ten minutes to write his response.

_ Hello J, _

_ I am, in fact, the correct Steve. Thank you for giving me my sketchbook back, it means a great deal to me and I do not mind at all that you looked at my work as I have always been willing to show my work. _

_ I, too, like cats and I also hate the cold. It’s awful. _

_ Steve. _

He had searched the return address to not only make sure it was real but to see where it was concerning where he lived and he wasn’t surprised at all when he found that the sender also lived in Brooklyn, in an apartment not too far from his small house. 

Steve got a response the same day, it was late, there was a knock at his door and he opened it to see a thick blanket and a letter on top of it. The blanket was red and silver and Steve instantly wrapped it around his shoulders as he opened the letter.

_ Steve, _

_ I hate the cold as well so have this blanket, I have one like it and it keeps me warm even on the really cold nights. I like rollercoasters… I think. _

_ I have memory issues and I am still working things out. _

_ -J _

The letter was carefully placed in his box and the next letter Steve sent had a map of fairly close theme parks. 

_ J, _

_ Rollercoasters, huh? Last time I went on one I ended up throwing up… It wasn’t a fun time but my friend helped me through it. I’ve lived in Brooklyn for a long time but I have had to spend a lot of time away so I’m still learning a lot of the changes, one change I do like is the bakery down the road from me. I definitely recommend it if you are ever close by. _

_ -Steve _

He picked up the next letter from his doorway almost a week later on his way to see Sam, Natasha and Clint at a cafe nearby. They met each week when they weren’t too busy and spent a good few hours having food and drinks, catching up even though a week wasn’t a long time and they usually saw each other times during the week and he was in the middle of reading the letter from J when Sam and Nat slid into the booth.

_ Steve, _

_ It took me a little while but I went to Coney Island and I enjoyed the rides, not all of them as I don’t like being out in big crowds for a long period of time. I went to the bakery and bought a raspberry cheesecake, it was nice and I wanted to get you something but I didn’t know if you are allergic to anything so I snagged a menu for you to circle what you like. _

_ Wait, shit, that’s weird. Please ignore this. Sorry. _

_ -J _

Steve looked up at them with a smile before looking back down at the letter, there was a large scribble next to the ‘J’ as if whoever had written the letter had gone to write their full name and then second-guessed it. He was naturally curious so he tilted the paper slightly to try and see what the word was but the letter was snatched by Clint who sat down and read the letter. Steve didn’t even reach for the letter knowing that there was no point trying to get it back while Clint was reading it, it would probably end up in ruins so he knew he should let it be.

“Who’s ‘J’?” Clint raised an eyebrow at Steve in question, giving Steve the letter back and he saw how both Natasha and Sam perked up. 

“They are just a friend I guess,” Steve took a drink of his water before folding the letter back up, putting it in the envelope and then placed it in between a few pages of his sketchbook. “They returned my sketchbook a week or so ago and we have been sending letters.”

“Why haven’t you talked to them in person?” Natasha’s piercing gaze was on Steve as she asked the question.

“Not had the opportunity to so it’s just been letters which has been nice actually.” 

The four of them changed the subject, talking about how their week had been, about how Tony had all irritated them in his way, then they said hi to Tony when he showed up five minutes later. Tony, after commenting on how chipper Steve looked, told them about a man who was lost, so lost that he had been wandering around Manhatten trying to find his way to Brooklyn with a broken prosthetic arm and Tony was in the process of making him a new one for free. Clint had created a few more types of arrows for when they were all next out on a mission, Natasha had started dancing again and Sam had found some sponsors for the VA so they could do the restorations on the building.

Steve told them about how his lost sketchbook had found its way back to him and that he had been travelling around New York to actually see what had changed, he did, however, leave out the letter he had been writing at the table while they talked.

_ J, _

_ I don’t have any allergies but I used to, I was allergic to almost everything. I had asthma as well so really, I was allergic to air. I had some medical testing and it fixed everything, it made me better than I should be really. _

_ The raspberry cheesecake is great, the lemon meringue is better though (well, in my opinion, it is) and nothing about that letter is weird.  _

_ I was thinking that maybe we could meet? Or maybe you could call me? Please don’t feel pressured to do either… I would just like to put a face to the person who saved my sketchbook. _

_ Many thanks for that, _

_ Steve. _

It took two hours for Steve to get a letter after he dropped it off J’s home, he heard the knock on the door and waited until he heard the light footsteps walk around the corner. He then opened the door to see a small box that had a slice of lemon meringue, there was no letter but there was a small card.

_ Stevie, _

_ I don’t think you want to see me, see what I became. _


End file.
